The Abyss
by Deleroux
Summary: TVD. D/E. Post-3x22. One-shot. Elena's dream sequence which takes place on the same night of her transition. Also, a companion piece of sorts to "Gleaming the Cube".


**Author's Note****: This is intended to be a dream sequence from Elena's point-of-view. This is also intended to be something of a companion-piece to my on-going story, "Gleaming the Cube". I decided to post it separately because while it is a companion-piece of sorts, it is also independent, and works by itself. Chronologically, this dream would begin to take place somewhere between Chapter 1 (not the Prologue) and Chapter 2. I hope that's not too confusing.**

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_It's cold. So cold. I can't get away from the chill because it's all around me. It's touching every inch of my skin. It's in every thread of my clothes. It's not comfortable, or soothing. It's sharp, and bitter. I'm engulfed by it. And no matter where I look, or how much I struggle, there's no escape from it. It moves with me, shadowing me. It torments me, and it waits, because it knows it's only a matter of time._

_It's dark, too. So dark. Everywhere I look, I only see different shades of darkness. No light. There's no stars, or rays shining through any cracks. There's no reflections, or glow of any kind to be found. There's just me in this cold darkness, and I can't find the exit. _

_I can feel it coming, too—that reality I don't want to face. I'm not ready for it, but it wants me, and it won't let me go. It put me here, in this cold dark place, so it could finally get to me. I can't fight it. I can't tell it to leave me alone. I can't make it go away. It doesn't care what I have to say. It isn't interested in my pleas. It is efficient and concise and final. It has no capacity for compassion or mercy or sympathy. Who I am does not matter to it. Who I could be is irrelevant to it. I am just a name on a list next to a time. All it wants to do is keep its schedule, because that's its only purpose. It doesn't weigh my deeds—good or bad. It doesn't judge, pardon, or punish. It just wants to take me away, because that is what it does, and that is all it will ever do. It takes with no regard for anything but its prize in the moment. It's all so simple, and yet so foreign. I know what it is now, and yet I've never really understood it. It shows me who I really am, but that doesn't matter anymore because it's already too late._

_The coldness is inside me now, filling me up. The darkness is quick to follow, but it lingers back a while. It won't be long now. I don't think it wants to cause me pain, but the coldness hurts so much now. I feel needles in my skin. All over me. My chest hurts the most. More than I even know. There's more fear now, more anguish and agony, more longing and regret. I wish there was more time, but there's not. I wish I could say goodbye, but the words won't come, and there are no ears to hear them. There is only the coldness and the darkness and that thing which has come to steal me away. I can't breathe anymore because the coldness isn't letting me. I want to choke, but there's nothing left to gasp for. I want to cough, but my cough won't work. I want to move, but the pain is too much. So much that I can barely feel it now. I can barely feel anything anymore._

_Then I see him. He's here with me in the darkness. I don't know why he's here, but he is. He's not supposed to be here, but neither am I. The darkness is more frightening when he is here, but also more familiar, and I'm not really afraid anymore. I should be—I'm supposed to be, but I'm not. He wouldn't let that reality steal me away even though it always gets what it wants. It tried. But he was stronger. He's pushing the coldness away now too. And something's coming back to me that I thought I had lost. Hope. Life. He's bringing it back to me. Or maybe he's bringing me back to it. I don't know for certain, but that's okay, because I'm not afraid anymore. He's here with me now, and now I am safe. Now I am free. Now the coldness is gone, and the darkness doesn't matter. There's nothing that can get to me now, because he won't let it. He'll never let it. I think he's always been here though. I just didn't see him before—I didn't really see him. He was hidden by the darkness, and I was too afraid to see through it. My eyes are different now. Wiser. The darkness doesn't bother them anymore, and now I know. Maybe I needed the cold. Maybe I needed that reality to come for me. If only to finally know myself, so that I could see him._

_But then there's nothing. And I'm alone. I want to find my way back to the darkness, but I can't. I don't know how I got here, but here is not where I want to be. Here is wrong, and empty, and lonely, and hollow. He is not here. I do not belong here because he is not here. I hear him though. He's close now. I wish I could see him again. I wish I knew where to find him. But his voice is so far away, and I don't know which way to go._

_Then I'm awake. I'm back to where I was before the darkness and the coldness and the reality that wanted to steal me. But it's not the same. It's different than I remember. I'm different. He's here with me. I heard him calling, and I answered. So now I'm here with him. No. That's wrong. I'm not here with him. Something's wrong. I'm here. He is here. But we are not with each other yet. We are apart. We are away. It's not right. It hurts again, and I feel the coldness again even though it's not there. We were together in the darkness, but we are not together now, and it's all wrong. I know why it's wrong. I'm back—back here for him. But I'm not yet with him. Because he is in the darkness waiting for me again. He's always waiting for me, and he lives in the darkness. So I have to find it. I have to find the darkness so I can be with him. Then it will be right again. Then I will be right again. Only then. I'm not afraid anymore._


End file.
